


Power Synergy

by mrjengablock



Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow
Genre: Gen, Lily is Trans, Rule 63/Genderbending/Cisswap, or not so cis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-21 05:57:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20688635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrjengablock/pseuds/mrjengablock
Summary: Snip 02 — r63 AU — theme: versatile — Weld, Foil/Flechette





	Power Synergy

The Wards’ War Games weren’t technically supposed to be called that, since associating the Wards with “war”, “soldier”, or “death” was strongly prohibited by PR department decree. The name had stuck among the participants, however, and so long as they were careful to say “interdepartmental training exercises” in front of any cameras, “War Games” they were. 

Weld was one of the generals in these games, and had been for the last two years. This was her third as leader of the Boston Wards, and she was determined to make the event as fun and,  _ yes _ , educational as she could. The events were screened and put into motion by the PRT, but the team leaders were the ones who devised the competition. Before her, the games were usually tournament brackets, sometimes with races or other head-to-head matchups. Not only did that not help anyone, it made the competition team-wide as well, which hurt what she saw as the point—bettering teamwork. 

She relished the creation of elaborate puzzles and obstacle courses that would test each member of her team, and with the input of Archer of the New York Wards, she could confidently say that this year’s New York-Boston match would be challenging and awesome for everyone involved _ .  _

Archer sat across from her as she rolled up the maps they’d drawn and placed them in plastic tubes to be handed off to the PRT officers. They, along with the binder of notes and contingencies, would be a blueprint for the setup of the games. Some things would probably change; that was part of the fun. She and Archer would have surprises, too.

“I think that covers everything,” she said, satisfied. She favored him with a grin, “This is gonna be  _ epic _ .”

Archer had a wickedly sharp smile on his face. He’d pulled off his mask and hat within five minutes of meeting her. He didn’t have much to hide, he said, and neither did she. 

Two people whose families, if they could be called that, were encompassed by the organization for which they worked. Weld was a special case in that she had no life before the Protectorate found her. She had been just a lump of screaming metal in a sea of it, thorny with sticky traps for a body like hers that absorbed and bonded to all metal it touched. She wondered what caused Archer to feel that way, but wouldn’t dare question it. She didn’t know him well enough to know how he’d react, and spoiling their good relationship now before the games was not in the cards if she had any say in it.

She gathered her stuff into her bag, careful to avoid touching the clips holding her notes together.

“That’s got to be difficult,” Archer said, still leaning back in his chair. He made no move to leave and instead watched her with solemn brown-black eyes. 

Not wanting to leave first and risk offending a fellow Ward, Weld plopped her bag down on the table and sat back down, as though she’d intended to do that all along. 

“Not difficult,” she replied, “but a little annoying. Everyone has stuff like that, I think.”

It was a very general statement, one of those little nudges she dropped into interviews when someone pointed out her  _ less _ human traits to provoke empathy. They seemed to work; she had an average interview rating higher than even some popular adult heroes. 

Archer hummed noncommittally at that. It was quiet for a moment, long enough that Weld started to wonder if she should go. Just as she was trying to work out a gracious way to make her exit, he spoke again.

“Your power is pretty useful, despite the annoyances, though. Super durable, good in melee, always having a weapon on hand.” He pulled a quarter from his pocket and rolled it over his fingers. “If I don’t have the right weapon I have to make do with odds and ends.”

Weld recalled what she knew of Archer’s power: a striker who charged ammunition (like the bolts in his arbalest, hence the name), with supernatural timing and aim. She thought carefully about her next words. 

“I think,” she began slowly, “your power has a lot of variable uses, too. Like, you use it on those cleats to get traction, right? And timing has to be good for a  _ lot _ .”

“Mm, maybe,” he hummed, but he sounded distracted. 

“Do you have a set form or do you choose the way you look?” He asked, picking at his cuticles and no longer looking at her. 

“I can choose how I want to look,” she confirmed. “I don’t like to lose pieces of myself though.”

He rubbed his chin, where there was a faint trace of stubble. It was late in the evening.

“Have you ever-” he started, then stopped, looking hard at the table.

“Ever what?”

“Ever wanted to, uh, change your body. Uh, in  _ that _ way,” he stammered, his face going red. 

She had gotten questions like this before, and she was on PHO on her official account enough to see the kinds of messages and things that teenage boys and girls (and older, she shuddered) liked to send to changers like her. She’d seen some truly crude things before Tin_Mother had brought the mighty ban hammer down.

But Weld got the feeling this wasn’t exactly  _ like _ that.

“I like the way I look well enough,” she said, lying through her gold-plated teeth. “And if you mean, do I ever want to change my sex, well…”

She paused. He wasn’t looking at her, but he was listening intently, the lines of his body rigid and unyielding. All his focus was on her words. 

“I’m happy with being a woman,” Weld continued finally. “Are you…  _ okay  _ with being a man?”

Archer gnawed at his lip, his face still hot. He buried his head in his hands and mumbled, “I don’t know.”

“Do you think you’d like to be, uhm, a woman?” She was treading on unfamiliar ground, but the hero in her revolted at the idea of leaving someone in need to their own devices.

“I, I don’t really know. I don’t know what I want to be. I just don’t… don’t feel right.”

His words were soft, almost to himself. 

“Well, why don’t you try being something else? For a little bit, I mean. Just to, just to see.”

He finally looked at her, confusion on his face.

“Like, I don’t know your name. Er, your boy name. So you could tell me a girl name, or a non-gendered name, and I can call you by that.”

He was chewing his lip again, but he looked thoughtful, this time.

“If I ask you to- to switch names, would you do that?”

She smiled. “Of course. I know a thing or two about trying on names.”

He smiled.

“Okay, uhm. Let’s… let’s start with the girl one,” he- she looked excited at the prospect. “Call me Lily.”

“Okay, Lily.”


End file.
